Underwater, all was muffled and quiet after the hectic roar of the river. Refet swam gracefully, undulating his body towards the large white cave. He soon found the narrow entrance at the back which led to the underground lake. As he wriggled through, bubbles of air escaped rapidly from his mouth. Eventually, he surfaced in the dark cavern lake and pulled himself onto the stone shore. He wiped the water from his eyes and untied the box from his waist. It was sealed with pitch to make it watertight and now he cut it open with his knife. Good, everything inside was bone dry. He lit a candle and got to work.
By ten past eleven he was set up. He tried not to think about what lay hidden in this place, but images of his massacred comrades and the two doomed families came unbidden into his mind. The seconds dragged by. Every minute felt like ten as he checked and re-checked the heavy pocket watch that Harold had given him.
The walls of the cavern were green and mossy, and strange pointed stalactites hung down from the ceiling like giant swords ready to parry and thrust. He listened to the drip, drip and ripple of water from the underground lake which echoed throughout the huge cavern.
At five to twelve Refet stood up and prepared himself, stretching and pacing like a caged tiger, flexing his fingers and rolling his shoulders, his taut body suddenly flooding with adrenalin.
Lighting the fuses, he watched them snake away towards the millstone entrances. He slipped like a fish into the underground lake and dove down and away into the narrow underwater tunnel and back through the white river cave. He finally surfaced out in the fast-flowing river and the brightness of the noonday sun.
Refet took huge gulps of air and squeezed his eyes closed against the spray of water and white daytime light that took some getting used to after the black gloom of the caves. He trod water, fighting the current and finally opened his eyes and focused, looking for the river bank.
He was about to head for dry land when he felt a deep rumble beneath him. The water sucked at his legs and pulled him backwards, smashing him sideways into one of the fairy chimneys that protruded from the water. He was just able to reach out and wrap his arm around it.
Refet stayed there for a second or two before he realised the cone-shaped rock was slowly tipping over, sinking into the water. He let go, but found he too was being pulled down into the spinning vortex of water and rocks. The whirlpool spun him around and sucked him under again. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the spinning slowed and stopped. He was thrown back up to the surface like a cork and the water resumed its flow.
Choking and spluttering, Refet let the river take him downstream while he floated on his back trying to get his breath. Then, when he had recovered enough, he struck out towards the river bank, heaving himself onto dry land. He lay there, letting the heat warm his tired, battered body.
After some time, he could not have said how long, Refet finally had the strength to sit up. His clothes were almost dry and he already felt hot and very thirsty. He crawled forwards, scooped some river water into his mouth, stood and walked back upstream. The two fairy chimneys, with their ancient heads above the water line, had disappeared. The explosion had done its job and dislodged them. Good. No clues left as to what lay beneath.
His task complete, he would wait here for Harold. They would leave this cursed place and travel across the ocean to England and his new life. He tried not to think of the other matter that would soon need to be addressed - that of the Englishman’s family. God willing, they would continue to sleep in their coffins and never wake up, but somehow he did not think things would be that easy.
*
Having climbed hand-over-hand back up the rope with the long fuses between his teeth, Harold lit them and let them go. He prayed they would not burn out before reaching the sticks of dynamite he had placed by each of the four entrance ways. Had he calculated correctly? Would the charge be enough to collapse the tunnels completely?
The blast rumbled the earth and soon all that remained of the shaft, was a wide, shallow depression in the ground that would soon blend into its surroundings. Harold had one last swift glance around the abandoned site and shook his head, ruing the day he had ever come to this damned place. He mounted his horse and made off towards the river near Zelmat, where Refet waited.
*
After many days of uneventful, melancholy travel, Harold and Refet found themselves back in England adjusting to a new way of life. The five children remained unmoving in their coffins.
He had arranged for the bodies of Didier and Marie-Louise to be returned to their families in France and had written to say that the children had not been recovered from the rock fall that killed them all. He hated to lie like this, but the truth was too shocking to be revealed and Harold wanted to spare their families from any further pain and worry. He would take on the responsibility of caring for them. It would help to ease his grief and give him some kind of reason to go on. He would do whatever it took to revive them.
Harold made a space for the sleeping children in the large cellar of his country home. He created a beautiful comfortable room down there, hidden by a false wall to prevent discovery by his servants. He constructed large wooden crates, lined with soft blankets for them to lie on. He spoke to them every day and read to them from books and newspapers.
Harold did not sleep well in his huge four poster bed anymore; it felt too big without Victoria and he usually spent most of his nights tossing and turning or wandering around his house in the quiet small hours.
It was the beginning of June and the weather was unseasonably warm for England. Even with all the windows propped open as wide as they could go, there was no breeze and the heat hung thick and heavy.
Harold awoke from a fitful sleep and noted a change in the air. A chill enveloped him and he had the strange sensation that he was being watched.
Chapter Nineteen
*
How did you make sense of something that didn’t make sense? A statue that wasn’t a statue. Was it alive? Was it supernatural? It hadn’t talked or anything. It hadn’t even opened its eyes. Could it really be what Madison thought it was? A ... a ... She couldn’t even say the word in her head without it sounding so far-fetched and ridiculous that she was in danger of checking herself into the loony bin.
And if it was what she thought it was, then why hadn’t it attacked her before now? Was it because this time she had gone down there at night? There were too many unanswered questions, but the main one was, were she and Ben safe? She looked at the bandage on her wrist. She had been in bed for four days now and felt much better, physically. But mentally she was a wreck.
She peeled back the tape and began to unwind the bandage, tensing her body in preparation for what she was about to see under the dressing. The soft skin on her inner wrist was yellowish, bruised and tender. But the marks themselves had healed quickly - now showing as two small triangular-shaped scabs. She took the bandage off completely and decided get up and see Ben. She needed to talk to him about what had happened and find out whether or not Esther and Morris had been into the cellar.
The Foxtons were still here, in a room on the second floor. Esther brought Maddy her meals in bed, changed her dressings and gave her the medicine Dr Wilson had prescribed. She talked a lot; mainly about Ben and the housework, but she delivered it all in her usual abrupt manner - more a monologue than a conversation. Maddy wondered how long they planned on staying. She was grateful for their help, but could do without them being here all the time; it was doing her head in.
‘Hey, geezer,’ Maddy peered into Ben’s bedroom. He was sprawled on his bed doing his homework.
‘You’re up!’ Ben threw his pen down and grinned at her. ‘Are you better now?’
‘Getting there, shortie. Still a bit shaky.’
She got on his bed, pulling her feet up under her. ‘I was really out of it, wasn’t I?’
‘Yeah, you were bad, Mads. Shivering and talking in your sleep and stuff. But I meant to ask you about something we
ird, cos the morning you got ill, the cellar was open with the lights on, but you were still in bed. Did you go down there or something?’
‘Yeah,’ Maddy said, relieved he hadn’t noticed anything else amiss. ‘I was down there when I started feeling ill and I felt so bad I must’ve forgotten to turn everything off. Did Esther or Morris go down there? Did they see the statues d’you know?’ She asked the question as casually as she could.
‘Don’t think so. Dunno. Mads, are you well enough to help me with this history homework? It about Wat Tyler, this peasant bloke …’
‘Yeah, Ben, sure. What do we have to do?’
Ben spent the next hour or so, talking to her about the fourteenth century peasant revolution and Maddy listened, finding it a welcome distraction from her turbulent thoughts.
*
That night, Madison woke at about three in the morning. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t get her mind away from what had happened. She knew it was madness, but she felt a compulsion to revisit the cellar and see if the statue creature would wake again. Because, although what had happened was horrific, Maddy couldn’t shake the memory that it was also sublime. She had never experienced feelings like that in her life. It had been like being connected to the cosmos - terrifyingly wonderful. And he … he still drew her to him with his beauty; it was like an addiction.
And so, fighting against the rational part of her brain which screamed at her to stay away, she tiptoed down the stairs towards them, towards him. She unlocked the utility room door and crept down the cellar steps with the torch in her hand. Maddy turned on the halogen light, but nothing happened. The bulb must have burned out. The crates were still pulled away from the opening, so she walked through to the small room in the cold torchlit gloom.
The lid still lay on the ground and Maddy breathed in with apprehension and pleasure as she saw him lying there. She sat too close, terrified he would attack her again, but terrified he would not.
Madison reached out her hand. The same hand that ached from the last time she came down here. She touched his face with her fingertips and marvelled at its hardness, like granite or marble. It seemed impossible it could be alive, in any sense of the word. Had she imagined it? Looking at her wrist, she shook her head, not knowing what to believe. Maddy sat there for a while, staring at his unmoving face.
*
Madison recovered and Esther and Morris returned to their cottage on the edge of the estate. Maddy awkwardly thanked them for looking after her, and Morris stated it was no trouble. Esther said that they were the caretakers and it was part of their job. Life continued as before, with Ben enjoying his new school and Maddy receiving intermittent visits from Travis. She spent large chunks of her time down in the cellar, but nothing else untoward occurred.
The days and weeks sped past and Maddy’s wrist healed up completely, with only two faint scars to remind her of what had happened.
The week before Christmas, Maddy sat in the kitchen warming her hands around a mug of tea, when the doorbell rang. She heard Esther banging around upstairs somewhere, so she answered the door herself, taking sips of her tea. Morris and one of the gardeners stood on the doorstep in the rain, with a ten foot Christmas tree resting on their shoulders.
‘Where d’you want him?’ Morris asked. ‘Chopped him down this morning.’
‘Wow!’ Maddy gasped. ‘Is that for us? For the house?’
‘Well it ain’t for the Wizard of Oz. You gonna tell us where you want him before our backs break?’
‘Oh, sorry. Umm, in the hall? No. In the lounge in front of the big window.’
‘Right. Move out the way then. Come on, Charlie. Into the drawing room.’
Christmas had always been a haphazard affair for Ben and Maddy. It had usually started off okay at Trevor and Angie’s, but too much drink was always consumed, the day ending in shouting or sulking, with much slamming of doors and storming out. Before Trevor and Angie, it had just been completely depressing, with forced fun in care homes from well-meaning volunteers.
This year would be different. She would create a wonderful traditional day, like her mum used to. A proper celebration with a tree, presents, a Christmas dinner, chocolates and crappy TV - Perfect.
Maddy and Ben watched as Morris and Charlie wrestled the wet Christmas tree into place in front of the floor-to-ceiling drawing room windows. It was like a story book tree, perfectly shaped and tapering to a point which almost touched the ceiling. Maddy inhaled the sharp citrus scent of pine needles.
‘Thank you,’ she said as the men stepped back to admire their efforts.
‘You got any decorations?’ Morris asked.
‘Huh?’
‘Christmas decorations – You got any?’
‘Oh. No we haven’t.’ Maddy realised she’d have to get some.
‘Thanks, Charlie,’ Morris said. ‘I’ll be out shortly. You can carry on with the wood.’
‘Oh. Alright.’
‘Yeah, thanks, Charlie,’ Madison said as he left the room.
‘Just going upstairs,’ Morris said. ‘Be back in a minute.’
Ten minutes later, he returned to the lounge carrying a large box.
‘What’s that?’ asked Ben.
‘You said you didn’t have any decorations. Here’s a box full of them.’
‘For us?’
Morris nodded. ‘They’re years old. Belonged to the original owner didn’t they.’ He put the box down on the coffee table.
‘Cool.’ Ben knelt on the floor and opened the lid.
Madison crouched next to him and peered in to see parcels of scrunched up tissue and newspaper. She reached into the box at the same time as Ben and they giggled as they clashed hands. Maddy picked out one of the packages and carefully unwrapped the tissue paper. A small figure dropped into her palm. It was a tiny old-fashioned girl wearing ice skates – an exquisite Christmas decoration.
‘It’s beautiful.’
Ben opened another of the small parcels. His was a silver reindeer pulling a dog on a sleigh.
‘Don’t go dropping them. They’ll be quite valuable I should think.’
Madison and Ben looked up to see Esther standing in the doorway. Her mouth turned up into an unfamiliar smile.
Exquisitely made from glass or porcelain, there were little snowmen, a polar bear, a silver pig in a cart and many others. Some of the ornaments lay in broken pieces, or crumbled as they touched them, but most were still in decent condition and she and Ben spent a magical afternoon on the stepladder, decorating the magnificent Norway Spruce and eating most of the tree chocolates that Esther had bought with the weekly shop.
*
On Christmas Eve, Travis called round to ask if Maddy wanted to come to the pub. Kerri and Taff would be there, along with a whole group of their mates.
‘Thanks, Trav, but me and Ben are getting all Christmassy – slobbing out and watching a film. Maybe another night?’
‘Well, it’ll have to be after New Year. I’m going up to Cheltenham tomorrow to stay with my dad for the week.’
‘Oh. Wait there.’ Maddy left him standing on the doorstep while she went to get his present from under the Christmas tree. She and Ben had got him a couple of rare import twelve-inch records. ‘Don’t open it till tomorrow,’ she said as she handed it to him.
‘Thanks, Mads. I can’t believe you got me something.’
‘It’s from Ben too.’
‘Here. This is for you.’ He handed her a small square parcel.
‘Thanks, Trav.’
‘You’ve got to open it now.’
‘Really?’ she said. ‘I’d rather open it on Christmas Day. I’m not going to have many others ...’
‘Open it now. Go on.’
‘Okay,’ she smiled and suddenly felt about five years old. The parcel had been beautifully wrapped in gold paper with twirly bits of red ribbon. She pulled the ribbon off and ripped open the paper.
‘It’s an ipod,’ Travis said, watching her face. ?
??But I loaded it with tons of tracks I know you like. There’s speakers in with it and I’ve also put a load of cheesy Christmas tunes on there, so you can get your groove on to Mariah and Boney M.’
‘Trav, you are such a sweetheart. I love it.’ She leant in to kiss his cheek, but he turned his face slightly and her mouth brushed his lips instead. He stared at her, but she ignored the moment he was trying to create. She pulled back.
‘Ben!’ she called into the lounge. ‘Look what Travis got me for Christmas!’
Ben didn’t hear her though and she was left standing uncomfortably on the doorstep, with an expectant Travis.
‘He’s got the telly turned up too loud,’ she said, talking inanely to try and cover the awkward moment. ‘So, come round after New Year, if you’re free ... and … have a good night tonight. Say hi to Kerri and Taff for me …’
She felt Travis trying to make eye-contact, but she wouldn’t look at him properly. She didn’t want to see the feelings she knew he had for her.
‘Yeah. Happy Christmas, Mads.’
She heard disappointment in his voice. He trudged back to his van and Maddy felt bad. But she liked him as a friend and that was it. She knew she could never feel about Travis, the way she felt about … She stopped herself short. Could she really have feelings for ... it? For a statue.
She shook away the thought. She and Ben were going to relax and enjoy their first Christmas as a family with no outsiders, no social workers or foster parents. They were wealthy with their own house and their lives stretched out before them. Anything was possible now. They could do whatever they wanted. Maybe they could go away on holiday after Christmas. Maybe that’s what she needed. Time away to get some perspective. Away from them ... from him.
*
Was it morning yet? Maddy turned over and looked at the red glowing numbers on her alarm clock. Five forty three. Much too early to get up. She thought she heard something, a creaking floorboard. Father Christmas? She laughed to herself and pulled the quilt up to her chin. Go back to sleep, Maddy.